


crossroads

by icedaddy



Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, OR IS IT, Romance, alcohol consumption, canon doesn' t matter in this, i scrapped like the whole basis of canon, this is an au so there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedaddy/pseuds/icedaddy
Summary: Tharn and Type are insomniacs whose lives run during the night. Tharn who works at a bar, and Type who works as a nurse: two lost souls who found each other in the loneliness of the deep night.
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113





	1. with a smile

**Author's Note:**

> \- The story is loosely based on Prime Cruz's film Sleepless (2015).
> 
> \- This will be canon divergent, meaning canon rules don't matter as much. As it is obvious already just by looking at their ages, most of canon did not happen in this universe.
> 
> \- I post it here on AO3 because I figured this will most likely be fully written, and I can't do it through social media AU, but, I still post this on Twitter with previews and additional details so go check out @ultgulf for more information.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This one's for our new patrons tonight. I hope you enjoy the song." he uttered as he took a second before singing the first lyrics. It was a song of comfort, especially for the sad and troubled. It was originally written for people with terminal illness, but for some people, loneliness is a terminal illness, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG OF THE CHAPTER: With A Smile - Eraserheads

"Let's stop CPR for a minute. Does he have a pulse?" 

"No, doc." 

The doctor leaned in to check with the patient. They had been trying to save the man's life for the last 45 minutes, and he's been practically unresponsive for the last thirty. 

"Let's stop. Calling the time of death, 10:10 PM." Type stopped operating the manual resuscitator as he heard these words. Blankly staring at the deceased patient, he can vaguely hear the pause offered by the medical team present. 

"Let us take a moment to pause and honor...He was someone who...and in silence...let us also honor and recognize the care provided by our team.” He drifted in and out as the short speech was uttered. He noticed that the patient's eyes were still open, so he gently cupped his hand over, closing the man's lids to give the man one last reprieve. 

Thirty seconds of silence followed after, and the team moved separately to prepare for postmortem care. Type discarded his gloves as he went out of the room. Technically, he was supposed to be clocked out 10 minutes ago, but this man came just before the shift ended. Now that he has done his duty, he left the rest to them. 

He sat down on a bench in the staff room to breathe for a minute. In his three years working as a nurse, and one of those spent working in Trauma, he has seen death more often than the average human being. Sure, as time passes it gradually dulls your senses, but the heavy feeling in his chest whenever a person dies in his hands never went away. As a nurse, though, he has no choice but to accept that death is a part of life, and it is an inevitable process for some. He can comfort himself in the fact that he gave the utmost possible care to these people as possible. 

After five minutes of trying to dissociate with what just happened and pulling himself together, he finally changed clothes to go home for the day. 

As he walked from the hospital back home, he thought of his life. Despite the harrying nature of his work, he liked working at Trauma. It's quick, and you don't spend as much time with patients—at least not enough to form a complete bond. He didn't want the additional emotional burden that came with having to witness someone you've handled for months or years just die, knowing you could not do anything more for them but hold their hand. Thank heavens he's not in Oncology. 

Type looked up at the dark, night sky. There were no stars in sight, and the moon was covered in fog. He was wearing a simple shirt, probably not thick enough for the night time weather, and the air was chilly touching his skin. He rubbed the goosebumps off his arm as he took and detour and entered the next street he could reach. 

He heard the sound of drums as soon as he went down said street. There was someone singing, probably the vocalist of some band. Type looked at his wristwatch: 10:45 PM. It's late enough for the apartment complex he lived in to be quiet when he arrives home, but sleeping is definitely out of the question. He's never slept properly at night since what he felt was forever, anyway. _Might as well spend my night drinking,_ he thought. 

The bar was homier than he expected. Despite the loud sounds of the band playing, the atmosphere was calm. Type oddly compared it to a coffee shop, where people just sat down to enjoy a good cup and good background music. Except here, they have bottles of beer and the sound of the bass accompanying the vocalist's deep voice. 

He barely spared them a glance as he went straight to the bar. Although he'd been to a few bars before in university, this is his first time in this particular one. He studied at a university one hour away from here, and only lived here when he started work. He never had time nor motivation to go out before with workmates, so now here he was, not knowing what to order. 

"Hello there, pretty. First time here?" The woman manning the bar spoke to him. She looked like she's in her mid-thirties, with a warm, comforting smile and kind eyes. 

"Uhm...yes." He hesitantly answered. 

She smiles wider, if that was even possible. Seeing her this close, he noticed the wrinkles around her eyes. She was probably older than she looked. 

"Tell you what, one drink on the house along with whatever you want to order. Welcome gift." 

"Oh...sure, uh, beer." He uttered. She raised her eyebrow at this, but maintained her smile. 

"I see. Simple guy, plays safe. How about gin and tonic for the other one?" She said as she started preparing his order. He guessed he didn't have a say in that matter, not that he was going to complain: a free drink's a free drink. 

It took her just under five minutes to prepare everything. She placed them in front of him, leaning on the table to get closer. 

"I'm P'Jeed, my husband and I own the bar. You?" 

"Type. A nurse." He succinctly answered. 

"How noble. So, what do you think?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of this place, of course." She gestured all around the bar. Type let his eyes wander, seeing the contented patrons enjoying their drinks, the music, and their companions. Nothing was in disarray, despite being a place occupied by drunk people. 

"Cozy for a bar. No offense." He quickly added. 

P'Jeed laughed. "Why would I take offense? That's a nice thing to hear. We try to distinguish ourselves from our competitors by giving our patrons a space to relax, in a good way." 

Type did not know what to say, so he just sipped on one of his glasses. Oh, wow, this gin and tonic tasted great. 

P'Jeed briefly turned her head to the stage where the band was currently ending their song. She flashed whoever was looking at her with a smile, and turned to him. 

"How about the band? What do you think about them?" She tilted her head, as if very curious of his response. 

Type turned to look at the ones on stage. The group was huddled a little bit talking about something, so he couldn't really see them. 

"They sound great." He gave a safe reply. 

"The vocalist's my pride and joy. Not my biological son, but he might as well be. He's the main attraction of the bar, girls flock here just to hear him sing." 

As Type was turning to get a glimpse of said golden boy, the vocalist spoke on the microphone. 

"This one's for our new patrons tonight. I hope you enjoy the [song](https://youtu.be/TtqAUOxwh-k)." The man had a wide smile that crinkled his eyes. As he took in the face of the vocalist, Type thought he was hallucinating. 

_"Lift your head. Baby, don't be scared."_

༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧

Things weren't going as well as he wanted today, most likely because there's barely any people in the bar during Mondays. Tharn surveyed the area as he sang their third song of the night. Half of the tables were empty, with most of the customers sitting near the back. He doesn't let this discourage him, though. _Things will get better,_ he thought. Today was just a lousy Monday. 

As his eyes were wandering around, he noticed the guy who just came in. He went straight to P'Jeed on the bar. He's never seen his face before, and he's quite confident in remembering their regular patron's faces and names. They mostly come there for him, anyway. 

When he saw two drinks being given by P'Jeed, he concluded the man was a first timer in the bar. It's a thing the bar owner liked to do: guess new patron's personality and treat them to a drink that matched. 

Tharn remembered when he first came to the bar. He was but a mere 19 year-old boy, eyes wide and hopeful, but with underlying fear. P'Jeed thought he was underage and tried to shoo him away, but he immediately bowed as deep as he could in front of her and asked her for a job. He practically begged her; he was fine even just as a dishwasher as long as he could buy food for himself. 

P'Jeed, being the kind soul that she was, sat him down and talked to him about his situation. When she knew he had no one for support and had to fend for himself, she asked him of his talents and skills. He mentioned to her about his love for music, including his experience as a vocalist in his high school band as well as his knowledge in playing multiple instruments such as the guitar, piano, and drums. 

It was just fortunate that she was looking for a permanent singer for her bar. She asked him to sing a short piece, and became enamored of him the moment the first note left his mouth. By the end of the same week, he was working at P'Jeed's bar as a singer and all-around boy when not on the stage. 

He didn't have to do the other tasks, but he wanted to earn as much as he could, still hoping that he can earn enough to send himself to college. That was a lost cause now, though, as he's already 28 and still hasn't had a formal tertiary education. P'Jeed offered to pay for his studies, but he felt like that was too much already, considering he basically leeched off her food and home. He vehemently refused her offer. 

He looked back at the new guy, noticing how much he hunched himself as small as he could. He has seen different kinds of people enter the bar before, and this man was definitely one of the lonely ones. 

P'Jeed caught him staring at the man and gave him a teasing smile. He raised his left brow at her, knowing what was currently going on in her mind. She knew of his sexual orientation, so she's probably assuming he found the man attractive. 

_"Newbie?"_ He mouthed at her. She subtly nodded. 

Great. This was a chance to impress a new potential regular. He gathered the band to notify them about the next song they're to play. They have a set list for every night, but sometimes he likes to stray from that especially when he gets some inspiration from anywhere. Tonight, his inspiration was that man and the loneliness that radiated from his whole being. _Ah, kindred soul, I hope this reaches you,_ he thought.

"This one's for our new patrons tonight. I hope you enjoy the song." he uttered as he took a second before singing the first lyrics. It was a song of comfort, especially for the sad and troubled. It was originally written for people with terminal illness, but for some people, loneliness is a terminal illness, too. 

The man turned to them, and as soon as he saw his face, he seemed shocked. He looked at Tharn as if he saw his ex-lover in an unexpected place. _What? Is he a past tryst of mine or something? I don't remember him._

He tried to not mind the man's expression as he sung, occupying himself with smiling at other patrons, especially the women who came to see him. 

"Thank you so much everyone. We'll be taking a short break, but see us later again, okay?" He winked at the audience. He heard a table of girls squeal at this, but nothing's really new about that. 

He approached the bar where P'Jeed was still with the new guy, who was _still_ staring at him like he's Brad Pitt in the flesh, or like he was this guy's summer fling three years ago. 

"One beer, P'Jeed." He said to her in a flirty voice. She rolled her eyes at him, but conceded like always. 

"Fine, since you did well. Go and accompany him over here." She said as she went to fetch a bottle for him. 

"Hello, first time?" He turned to the new patron, giving him his Business Smile # 5. 

It took the man a few seconds before he responded. "Uhm...yes. You? I mean--" 

Tharn laughed. "Nope. Been here for 9 years." He saw the man visibly relax at this. 

Holding out his hand, he tried to introduce himself. "I'm Tharn, you are?" 

The man only stared at his hand, before blankly meeting his eyes. "I...gotta go." He hurriedly picked up his wallet and phone, and stormed off the bar. 

"Huh? What happened?" P'Jeed asked as she came back to the table. 

Tharn just shrugged. "Dunno. Weird one, he is." 

༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧

Type hurriedly ran back to his apartment. _What was that?_ He asked himself. He tried to calm his breathing as he leaned against his front door. He turned on the light in the room, but was reminded of the fact that it's broken. The bulb was flickering, and has been that way for a long time. Type wanted to change it, but he never had the time nor motivation to do so. _Maybe some other time. It still works, anyway._


	2. too good at goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know," Tharn started once more. "It doesn't mean all salty things and all sweet things go together." 
> 
> The man turned to him, staying silent, seemingly waiting for further explanation.
> 
> "Sure, technically, they might be comprised of complementary aspects, but you gotta take a look at the bigger picture. Not all that seem to be a match actually belong together. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG OF THE CHAPTER: Too Good At Goodbyes - Sam Smith

Type dialed the number listed on the phone as "Love" for the seventh time already. The patient came in after being hit by a ten wheeler, miraculously still breathing although barely. They searched the man's belongings for a contact person, where they found his phone with "Love" as an emergency contact. 

He was about to give up, as his calls were all ignored and he's been going at it for about an hour already, but decided to give it another try. Tapping his foot in sync with the passing seconds, he waited for someone to pick up. Just a beat before the line automatically hung up, he heard the voice of a woman on the other side. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello ma'am, this is Bangkok Hospital. We're calling about Mr. Tana--" Before he could finish, the woman interrupted him. 

"Wait a second---honey! Can you take the sheet out of the oven, please?" She shouted to another person in the room. Now that Type paid more attention, he can hear faint squeals of laughter from children. Clangs of pots and pans are also audible, and the voice of a man asking for instructions sounded from the same room. After about a couple of minutes, the woman spoke again. 

"Sorry about that. Yes?" 

"We're calling from the Bangkok Hospital, ma'am. Mr. Tanawat had been in an accident. May I ask your relation with the patient?" 

The woman paused for a while before softly answering. "Oh, uh, I'm his...lover." 

"He has listed you as his emergency contact person. He's currently undergoing several procedures as the damage had been quite severe. If you want to--" Once again, Type was interrupted. 

"Oh, baby, don't run around the kitchen! You'll trip and fall. Honey, please take our daughter to her room first, yeah? I'll just finish this call." The nurse can hear the woman walking while on the phone. 

"Of course, babe. Can't wait to have dinner with you." He heard the man, who was now way closer to the phone, kiss the woman. 

She turned back to their call after the footsteps went farther. "Sorry. Uhm, is he...alive?" 

"As of now, ma'am, he is. We're trying our best." 

"Oh. Okay, because I'm kind of busy and can't go. Just contact me if he, like, died." 

Type cannot believe what he was hearing. He tried to steady his voice, not letting any emotion pass through. "Can you at least provide us with other emergency contact we could call, like his parents? Maybe they're worried about him." 

"Oh, he doesn't have a family anymore. No one's gonna come." After a beat of silence, the woman hung up. 

Type slammed the phone down. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He always tried his hardest to separate his feelings from work, but he can't help but feel bad for the man: no one in his life but a woman who doesn't even care. Somehow, it hit something deep inside Type. 

He marched back to the hospital room, proceeding with his duties. Life doesn't stop for tragedy. 

༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧

It was 4:15 in the morning. Type couldn't sleep, as usual, and decided to take a walk to the convenience store. He has been having processed food for the last two weeks, and now is just another one of those days. 

As he was standing in front of the aisle where his favorite instant ramen was placed, he remembered the incident in the hospital. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he pressed "1" and dialled. 

One ring, two rings, seven rings...no answer. _"The number you dialed is currently not available. Please try again later."_ The automated voice taunted him. 

Sighing, he grabbed one pack of ramen and went to the sweets and chocolates aisle. Just as he was about to grab his favorite chocolate bar, another hand attempted to get it. He looked up and he saw a familiar face of a stranger. He remembered his trip to the bar almost one week ago. This guy was the vocalist of the band. 

"Can I have this? It's the last piece." The man asked, smiling at him. 

༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧

Tharn clocked out of P'Jeed's bar earlier than normal. The band had already done their set, and all that's left is waiting for closing. He said goodbye to P'Jeed and her husband, and went straight to the convenience store near his home. 

The bell above the door chimed as he entered the shop. There were only two other people present: the indifferent cashier with her feet propped on the counter and another customer at the noodle aisle. He first grabbed a lemon drink from the shop's fridge before going to the chocolates aisle. He saw the other customer now there, choosing something to get. Searching for his preferred chocolate bar, he saw the other man about to grab the last one on the shelf. He hurriedly placed his hand on it, wanting to get the last piece. The man turned to him, startled with the contact of their hands. 

"Can I have this? It's the last piece." He grinned at the man, trying to charm his way into getting the bar. He really wanted that candy right now. 

The other only raised his brow at him."No? I was here first." He tugged the bar closer to him. 

"I grabbed it first, though. Besides, you already have other food to eat." He pointed at the instant ramen on his other hand. "This, however, will be my only dinner." Tharn tugged the bar back to him.

"That's not healthy. Get some real food or something." The other man tugged it back. 

"That's rich coming from someone who wants to eat instant ramen and chocolate at 4 in the morning." 

"None of your business. Give it to me." The other tugged it closer once more. 

They went back and forth for what seemed like hours, and no one was willing to lose. "Look, just give it up, man. This is the only thing I want, and I badly want it. Can't you just sacrifice for this poor guy at least once, yeah?" 

The man's face soured. "Why am I always the one to sacrifice what I want? Go fuck your---fucking fine. Shove that up your ass or something." He harshly shoved the bar to his chest, grabbed another random chocolate bar, and went to the cashier. 

Tharn followed him with his gaze. _He really wanted the candy, didn't he?_ He thought. He can't help but chuckle at his small victory. 

He saw the other man sit down at one of the chairs in the store, ramen now cooking in hot water. Tharn went to the cashier to pay for his items and sat one seat apart from the man. 

"Hey, sorry for that. I really wanted this." He tilted his head so he could see the other man's face, which was ducked down and hidden by his hand. 

He did not reply. Tharn took a better look at the man who seemed familiar. 

"Hey, have we met before?" He took a few seconds to think before remembering. "I remember. Aren't you Gin and Tonic?" He remembered their new customer from the bar a few days ago. 

The man turned to him, brows meeting in annoyance. "What are you talking about?" 

"You know, the drink P'Jeed gave you at the bar, right? Why haven't you gone back? You didn't like the place or something?" 

"I'm busy with work." 

Tharn hummed. "Hey, why did you want this chocolate bar so much?" 

The man paused before replying. "It's my favorite. And salty goes well with sweet." He gestured to his ramen, now cooked. 

Tharn laughed at this. "Sweet and salty? Where did you learn that from? Claire Saffitz?" He grinned at the man, resting his head on his hand which was propped up on the table by his elbow. 

Gin and Tonic gave him a blank stare. "Yes." 

"That's great! I love Claire Saffitz, too!" 

"I'm more of a Chris Morocco person." 

"Good taste." 

A moment of silence passed between the two, with the man quietly slurping on his noodles and Tharn eating his chocolate bar. [Sam Smith](https://youtu.be/J_ub7Etch2U) was playing in the background, singing about growing apathy and goodbyes.

"You know," Tharn started once more. "It doesn't mean all salty things and all sweet things go together." 

The man turned to him, staying silent, seemingly waiting for further explanation.

"Sure, technically, they might be comprised of complementary aspects, but you gotta take a look at the bigger picture. Not all that seem to be a match actually belong together. " 

The man stared at him, taking in his words. "But I want them to match." 

"You can't force everything. If it's not meant to be, then it isn't." 

The man did not reply, finishing his food quickly and standing up. 

"Hey, come by the bar again?" Tharn gave him Business Smile # 3. 

He was ignored as the man dumped his trash on the bin and left the store. 

It took Tharn a few minutes after the man went out of sight to remember, "Oh shit, I didn't ask for his name again." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating only now. I wasn't in the best mental state and I got writer's block. 
> 
> If you get the Claire Saffitz and Chris Morocco reference, then congratulations for your good taste in YouTube content.


	3. tell me your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't want to try a different drink? There's a lot more, you know."
> 
> "I want something I'm familiar with." Is it so bad to yearn for the familiar, despite being sick and tired of it? Maybe, he thinks, but the safety is worth more than the risk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SONG OF THE CHAPTER: Tell Me Your Name - Christian Bautista
> 
> There are parts in the chapter where I link the song used in the scene (the underlined words are link that can be clicked). If you want to listen to the song, you can. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't know how Thailand's healthcare system works, nor do I know about its current state. If anything, what I wrote here reflects my country's healthcare system.

Type was on his way to the bar. He promised himself he won't come to that place again; whether it's because of a certain person who works there whose face he didn't want to see, he would not admit. However, today was particularly emotionally draining. 

A whole family came to the emergency room along with the patient. They just arrived from a rural province, seeking to find opportunities in the big city. The head of the family had a heart attack just after coming home from job hunting, so they rushed him to the nearest hospital.

The mother was crying, pleading the doctors and the nurses to help her husband. They didn't have money to pay, and it just so happens that the only hospital near their home was the one where Type was working. Being a privately-owned hospital, they do not have charity wards. They accepted the patient, but the family was informed of the estimated cost of treatment. At this point, Type was not sure if they were crying because of the incident or because of the debt they were about to deal with after all is over. 

There is an option to ask certain organizations for assistance, however this country's healthcare and government support is not the best, and asking for financial help will be harder than it sounds. Type heard the mother talking to her daughters that if worse comes to worse, they would have to drop out of school and start working to be able to pay the bills. 

This is an aspect of his job Type hated seeing so much. He hates that healthcare has become a privilege rather than a basic fundamental right of people. It stressed him out just as much as the burden of holding people's lives by their hands. 

Entering the pub, the first thing he unconsciously did was check out the band who was currently playing. _It's not him. Good._ He went straight to order a drink. Just as he was walking towards the counter, P'Jeed spotted him. Her eyes lit up and she waved at him.

"Hey, mister nurse! Welcome back!" She grinned at him as he sat down on the stool in front of her. 

"Hi, P'Jeed." 

"It's been almost two weeks. Why did you only come back now? Did you not like the place?" She gave him a pout. 

Type smiled shyly at her. At least, he thought it was a smile. His teeth were showing, lips parted. That's a smile, right? "Oh, no, I just...I was busy with work and I didn't have time to go back until now." 

P'Jeed cackled loudly while jokingly slapping his arm. "I was just kidding, babe. You're welcome to come back anytime you want. So, what's it today?" 

"I don't know...Maybe the one I got before? Gin and Tonic?" 

"You don't want to try a different drink? There's a lot more, you know."

"I want something I'm familiar with." Is it so bad to yearn for the familiar, despite being sick and tired of it? _Maybe,_ he thinks, but the safety is worth more than the risk. 

"Hm. Okay, buttercup." P'Jeed hummed in agreement and went to prepare his drink. 

Type was tapping his fingers on the table, bored but not wanting to check his phone. He was sure that whatever he would see there would be just another source of headache. He tried not to think of the five unreturned calls in his log. 

Before he could dig deeper into his thoughts, a heavy hand slapped his back. 

"Hey, Gin and Tonic! You came back!" The man exclaimed. It was him again, the vocalist of the band and the one he saw at the convenience store. 

Type grunted at him, a vague acknowledgement of his greeting. He really did not want to see his face right now. 

"Are you still angry I stole your chocolate bar? I can just buy one for you right now." He tried to take a closer peek at Type's face, resting his head on the table and looking up at him. 

"Not in the mood." Type replied. 

The man gave him a small pout. "By the way, I forgot to ask it last time. What's your name? I'm on a first name basis with our regulars, you know." 

"Why should I tell you?" 

"Because I'll call you Gin and Tonic until you give me a name." 

"Then do it." 

The vocalist playfully squinted his eyes at him. "Are you sure you don't want to give your name?" 

Type only stared blankly at him. The man sat up straight and pretended to straighten his band shirt before standing up. 

"Okay then, if you want to do it this way." He grinned at him before walking towards the stage where the band was just finishing up with the song. He leaned in to talk to the one who was singing, and went in front of the microphone as soon as he was given the space. 

"Good evening, everyone. This song is for one of our patrons, I hope after this he could answer my question." He waved at Type with his stupid grin. 

The [song](https://youtu.be/1lNwjszakL8) started with the plucking of the guitar strings. 

_"Tell me your name. You're lovely, please tell me your name."_

The man was looking at Type the whole time he was singing, still with that stupid smile Type hated so much. _It looks so stupid, it doesn't belong on that face,_ Type thinks. Unnoticed by him, his tense shoulders relaxed as he listened to the man's voice. 

༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧

Tharn ran back to the other as soon as he thanked the audience. "So? Can you tell me your name now?" He asked once more, singing the title of the song as he said it. 

His brows were scrunched, annoyed at the grand gesture. "You look stupid. You sound stupid." 

"That's not true. It was sweet." P'Jeed interrupted. 

"See! P'Jeed agrees and she's always right." Tharn beamed proudly at him. He tilted his head like a puppy. "As I was saying, your name?" 

Annoyed, Type stared at him for a couple of seconds before rolling his eyes. "Type." 

Tharn's grin became brighter, if that was even possible. "I'm Tharn. Nice to meet you." 

༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧༉‧₊˚✧

"Hey, Type. Time to go home, it's closing time." Tharn scolded the man who was still drinking on the bar. 

"Ugh, what time is it?" He asked groggily. 

"Like, 5-ish. Want me to take you home?" 

"No." He almost tripped when he attempted to stand up from the stool if it weren't for Tharn's quick reflexes. 

"Alright, I'm taking you home. Tell me your address." He supported the man, putting his arm around his shoulders. 

"Like two streets away. I can manage." He tried to pry himself away from Tharn, but the singer wouldn't budge. 

"What a coincidence, I live two streets away, too. Let's go." 

It took them an extra fifteen minutes to get to the apartment complex. Type puked on the side of the road twice, and Tharn was having difficulty supporting him. He silently wished he could just princess carry him just so things would be easier, but he guessed that's too much for the first day of knowing each other's name. 

"Drop me here." Type muttered as soon as they reached the building where he lived. He walked, gait wobbly, towards the stairs. He heard footsteps behind him, and saw that Tharn was still following him as he was going up. 

"Why are you still here? Go away, stalker." 

Tharn snorted. "I told you, it's a coincidence. I didn't know we lived in the same apartment." 

Type squinted his eyes at him, suspicious of his intentions. "Are you sure you're not stalking me? You're an axe murderer, aren't you?" 

"You have a wild imagination. I live in unit 4B. And if I were to be a murderer, I won't use something as inconvenient as an axe." 

Type rolled his eyes at him and proceeded to go up his floor. As soon as he reached the last step, he tripped his foot and was about to faceplant on the floor. Luckily, Tharn was there to catch him. 

"Clumsy. Let me help you before you kill yourself trying to put on pajamas." 

Type patted his jeans for his keys until he finally found it in the back pocket. He made several attempts to fit it into the keyhole, but all of them missed. Grunting, Tharn took the keys from his hand and opened the door for him. The room was wrapped in darkness, not even the light of the night sky shining through the windows was visible. He patted the wall near the door, until he felt the switch. The lights were working, but it was broken and flickering. 

Tharn remembered his own broken bulb in his room. He already has a new one ready to replace it, he just never had the time nor energy to bother fixing it. 

He went to the bed at the center of the room and carefully laid the man on the sheets. As he removed Type's shoes and placed his legs on the bed, the man who was looking at him with seemingly hazy eyes started to murmur. 

"Come home to me. I need you." 

Under the flickering of the broken light, Tharn could do nothing but stare back. 

**Author's Note:**

> AU Thread on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ultgulf/status/1227633404662861824?s=19
> 
> Follow me on Twitter at @ultgulf for my stan account and @correctharntype for the meme account!


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